Page 112 of A Shadow Amongst the Roses

Eleanor rose from the settee at once. The movement held no ceremony. It was a reflex born of affection and strain.

“You are back,” she said at once.

“Yes,” Eliza said. “Thornhaven knows only that the boy was taken from the path and found. Nothing more. How is Sammy?” Eliza asked.

“He has not stirred,” Eleanor added. “Clara sat with him until an hour ago.”

Nathaniel’s shoulders eased a fraction. He stood near the mantel in shirtsleeves and waistcoat as if he had not intended to sit down.

“Good,” he said. “There were questions stirring in the village. The less that carries beyond the estate, the better.”

Clara sat in a low chair, her hands folded around a cup long gone cold. She looked as if she had not moved since Eliza left that morning.

“What did his parents say?” Clara asked. “The steward?”

“Shock. Guilt. A willingness to do as we ask.” Eliza crossed to the fire, letting the warmth touch her gloves, not her skin. “They will keep silent.”

Eleanor’s hand rested on the back of a chair.

“Silent,” she repeated. “While someone walks the roads and plucks children from errands.”

“We will not allow a second attempt,” Thomas said quickly. He had taken a place across from Nathaniel. “We are closer now than we were before. Whoever arranged this risked himself. Men like that do not do so without reason.”

Nathaniel’s gaze sharpened.

“Or incentive.”

The air in the room shifted.

“What have you learned since we were gone?” she asked.

Nathaniel looked first to Eleanor. She gave the smallest nod.

“There was movement in the gardens today,” he said. “In the rose beds beneath these windows. The soil was marked where no servant has cause to walk. The branches bear it as well.”

Clara set down her cup hard.

“Meaning,” she said, “that someone has stood under these windows.”

“Listening,” Eleanor said.

The fire cracked softly.

“How long have you suspected that?” Eliza asked.

“Since this morning,” Nathaniel said. “Longer, if I am honest. Since Margaret arrived. Since Ashwood began positioning himself too neatly near you.”

Eliza lifted her head.

“Ashwood,” she said. “You believe it is him.”

“I am no longer prepared to dismiss the possibility.”

Clara’s gaze slid to the window, her reflection faint in the glass.

“If he has been under these windows,” she said slowly, “he has heard more than the weather and dinner plans.”

Eleanor closed her eyes.